The Elf Witch |Book 1|

Chapter 41

The foreboding sound of feet crunching through the blanket of fallen dead leaves was Imani's death march. More spirits than usual hovered around her like a halo, whispering as if sensing she might join them soon.

She longed to devour them more than usual. But even in the dark, eyes were watching the witches.

The dull roar of a crowd started growing in the background until it finally drowned out the taunts from the spirits. Unlike the others, tonight's final ascension Assessment would be public. Entering the cells below the outdoor fieldhouse, Imani wondered if the whole city had come out for the spectacle.

Clad in black fighting leathers like everyone else, Imani's eyes roamed around the tent, taking in the remaining participants. The third male Norn elf who survived the melee was there. In fact, all the survivors were male, and everyone was placing wagers that night, probably against the four remaining women. She was shocked there weren't fewer females remaining. Nida was one, as was Esa.

Strangers betting against the women filled Imani with a sick sort of glee.

She found Esa sitting with her wand between her teeth as she laced up her boots. Those fools should be afraid of the pixie in particular, and despite their rift, Imani would relish Esa's victory.

Looking up quickly, Esa surprised Imani with a curt nod. Give them hell, her eyes said. Imani returned it in silent understanding with a tilt of her chin just as Lore swept into the room to loom over Esa.

His face hardened, clearly in a dark mood. Imani wondered how he managed to get back here without competing, especially since he looked ready to kill everyone.

With her wings hidden tight behind her, Esa looked deadly, too.

Lore planted his hands on the wall on either side of her head, bracketing her in, and positioned himself tightly around her, hiding her. Esa's face contorted into a sneer; she raised her brow while saying something to him. Somehow, Esa still looked even more impressive, at least to Imani. More surprising was that she didn't push him away—in fact, she angled herself closer and allowed his hand to skim her arm lightly.

A nerve ticked in his jaw while she laid into him. A quiet tension built, but Esa didn't relent.

But he didn't either. Instead, he blinked, surprised at Esa's words, then laughed without amusement.

She pushed at his chest—not moving him an inch—which only made him smile down at her. Her mouth moved again, but he cut her off with a raised hand. Then, pointing at Esa's chest, whatever he said made her scoff dramatically.

Shuffling closer, Imani slyly caught the tail end of Esa's insult. "—You think this means you're worthy?" She hissed, grabbing his hand, the master brand gleaming on it. "Unlike you two, I never needed it. I never have, and I never will."

"You're infuriating," he snarled, ire flashing across his face as he lifted their clasped hands to his mouth, lightly kissing them. "You think I care about any of that when I have you?"

"You think a brand means you have me?" Her voice was low and venomous. "You've got fuck all."

As if feeling eyes on them, Esa glanced up. Then tried to push Lore away again. It only made him pull her closer. Finally, flustered, Esa managed to shove him off—and stormed off.

"Bloody hell," the pixie groaned to himself. Rubbing his hand over his bristle-heavy chin, he worked on composing himself. Mismatched from his blue hair, the shadow of stubble added to the strength of his jaw and the sharp lines of his face. His narrowed gaze suddenly landed on Imani.